I think you're crazy, Just like me
by Scribbler95
Summary: Demon hounds, experimental drugs and government secrets...only one of these was a completely new aspect of Demitria Blake's life, but she wasn't really expecting any of them when Sherlock dragged her and John to Dartmoor to look into the strange sightings of one Henry Kight. Life with Sherlock Holmes was nothing if not interesting...SH/OC
1. Chapter 1

John was enjoying the blissful and unexpected silence of the flat, sat by the fireplace with a book. Demi had worked from about four that morning and Sherlock was nowhere to be seen, leaving John with the entire flat to himself for what seemed like the first time in months. Come to think of it, it _was_ the first time in months.

So, needless to say he wasn't immensely pleased when he heard Sherlock thundering up the stairs, even less so when he heard a thump. Looking up to see what had caused it, he nearly had a heart attack. Sherlock stood panting, his jacket apparently abandoned and the white of his shirt stained with the blood that covered his face and arms. In his right hand he clasped a harpoon- also covered in blood – which was taller than he was.

"Well that was tedious!" He announced to the silent flat and gaping John, who opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish for a few moments before speaking.

"You went on the tube like that?!"

"None of the cabs would take me." Said Sherlock, with one of his patented 'how are you such an idiot?' looks, "Where's Demitria?"

"Work."

"Eurgh. How dull."

"Well that's how she pays the rent."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and marched off to his bedroom, harpoon in tow.

XxXxXxXxXxX

As Demi entered the flat she was welcomed by the alarmingly commonplace sight of Sherlock walking around, dressing gown billowing around him, brandishing a sharp metal instrument. Today's weapon of choice was a harpoon. He was pacing backwards and forwards across the wooden floor and paused when he saw Demi before continuing his pacing.

"Nothing?" He asked John – who had clearly been assigned the task of reading through the paper for potential cases. She could see an abandoned book by his side.

"Military coup in Uganda."

"Hmm." Sherlock waved it off. John chuckled as Demi walked over.

"Another photo of you with the…" He gestured to the image of Sherlock in a deerstalker and Demi giggled as she dumped her handbag on the sofa before throwing herself onto it. Sherlock sighed and walked around the room again. "Cabinet reshuffle…"

"Nothing of importance! OH GOD!" Sherlock thumped the harpoon on the floor before turning to John.

"John, I need some. Get me some!"

"No."

"Get me some!" Sherlock demanded to the room at large.

"No! Cold turkey. We agreed. No matter what." John's tone was final so Sherlock turned to Demi.

"Demitria…" Demi swallowed as he used his 'seductive convincing voice' as Molly had so aptly named it. "You always have at least one on you…"

"I do not!" Her eyebrows pulled together as she argued.

"Yes you do."

"How would you know that?!"

"I went through your handbag."

She reddened and pulled her handbag closer to her.

"Well I don't have any. I've quit too, remember?"

Sherlock looked at her like she'd just told him there was no Father Christmas.

"But…why? You're prone to giving in to weaknesses!"

"Oi!" She argued, standing with her hand on her hips, "I'll have you know I haven't smoked a cigarette in three months! Anyway, you've paid everyone off, remember? No one within a two mile radius will sell you any."

"That's a stupid idea, whose idea was that?"

John cleared his throat and his eyes flickered towards the stairs.

"MRS HUDSON!" Shouted Sherlock, making Demi jump, before he began throwing papers around, trying to find a cigarette, just one, somewhere in the flat.

"Look, Sherlock you're doing really well!" Demi tried in her most convincing tone, "Don't give up now!"

If he gave in, she'd smell it on him, taste it in his kisses…she'd give in too. Sherlock turned and took her face in his hands.

"Tell me where they are, please. Tell me." His fingers trailed down the side of her neck and she shuddered before stepping away and shaking her head.

"No, we agreed."

Disappointed, he turned to John.

"I'll let you know next week's lottery numbers?"

John chuckled, shaking his head.

"Oh, it was worth a try."

He threw himself to the floor and began rifling through the things by the fireplace as Mrs Hudson entered.

"Yoo hoo!"

"My secret supply, what have you done with my secret supply?" Demanded Sherlock from the floor.

"What? Demi love, what's he on about?"

"Cigarettes! What have you done with them? Where are they?"

"You never let me touch your things! Oh, chance would be a fine thing!" She responded, gesturing around the flat.

"I thought you weren't my housekeeper?" Deadpanned Sherlock.

"I'm not."

Sherlock grunted, launching himself off the floor and grabbing his harpoon, turning abruptly and almost giving Demi an impromptu haircut. John met Mrs Hudson's eye and made a drinking motion.

"How about a nice cuppa? And perhaps you could put away your harpoon."

"No I need something stronger than tea!" He paused, "Perhaps 7% stronger…"

Demi started. "No! Sherlock you promised!"

He seemed to ignore her, pointing the harpoon at Mrs Hudson.

"You've gone to see Mr Chatterjee again."

"Pardon?!" She demanded as Demi gave Sherlock what John had labelled her 'quit while you're ahead' expression.

"Sandwich shop. That's a new dress, but there's flour on the sleeve. You wouldn't dress like that for baking."

"Sherlock…" Demi's voice was tense but he continued.

"Thumbnail, tiny traces of foil. Been at the scratch cards again – and we all know where that leads don't we?" He inhaled deeply, "Mmm Casbah Nights. Pretty racy for a Monday afternoon wouldn't you agree? I've written a little blog on the identification of perfumes, for example Demitria wears a variety but favours 'Lola' – a present from you I believe, though she's using it less often nowadays because it's running out and she can't afford to replace it."

"Because you keep dragging me on cases when I could be working…" Demi muttered, still glaring at the back of his head.

"Anyway I wouldn't pin any hopes on that cruise with Mr Chatterjee. He's got a wife in Doncaster that nobody knows about."

"Sherlock!" Demi shouted, tired of being ignored.

"Well nobody except me…and Demitria it seems…"

"I don't know what you're talking about, I really don't!"

Mrs Hudson's eyes were teary as she turned and ran down the stairs. Sherlock threw himself down onto his chair and narrowly avoided the shoe that Demitria had aimed at his skull.

"What the bloody hell was that all about?"

Sherlock sighed dramatically.

"You don't understand."

John gestured to the door.

"Go after her and apologise."

"Apologise?!" Demanded Sherlock as Demi got up to put the kettle on. John nodded and Sherlock sighed.

"Oh John I envy you so much."

John raised an eyebrow.

"You envy me?"

"Your mind. It's so placid, straightforward, barely used." He took a shuddering breath, "Mine's like an engine, racing out of control. A rocket, tearing itself to pieces, trapped on the launch pad. I need a case!" He finished, shouting.

"You've just solved one!" John shouted back. "By harpooning a dead pig apparently…"

"Ah! That was this morning! When's the next one?!" Demanded Sherlock. Demi sighed.

"Boys, please." She massaged her temples as Sherlock bounced on his chair. She knew she wouldn't be able to calm him down easily now he'd worked himself into this state. And nothing short of her spontaneously removing all her clothing and streaking across London would merit him so much as batting an eyelid.

"Nothing on the website?" Tried John as Demi looked between the two of them before getting up to put the kettle on. Sherlock all but threw his laptop at John.

"Dear Mr Sherlock Holmes, I can't find Bluebell anywhere. Please, please, please can you help?" Sherlock announced to the room. Demi paused in her spooning of sugar.

"Bluebell?"

"A rabbit, Demitria!"

"Oh." She tried her best to look like she understood.

"Ah, but there's more. Before Bluebell disappeared, it turned luminous. 'Like a fairy' according to little Kirsty."

Demi tried to remain straight faced as Sherlock mimicked the voice of a young girl, she really did, but his wing-like motions on the word 'fairy' caused her to spontaneously burst into muffled giggles as she fought to keep her mouth closed, shaking as she poured the hot water and praying Sherlock didn't see her laughing at him. "Then the next morning Bluebell was gone! Hutch still locked, no sign of forced entry." He continued, then his face lit up, "What am I saying? This is brilliant. Phone Lestrade, tell him there's an escaped rabbit."

"You're serious?" John asked, eyebrows raised.

"It's this or Cluedo." Threatened Sherlock.

"No!" The joint shout made Sherlock pause for a moment.

"We are never playing that again." John shook his head as he put the laptop away.

"Why not?" Frowned Sherlock. Demi sighed.

"Because it's not actually possible for the victim to have done it, tea?"

Sherlock frowned.

"Black. Two sugars. And it was the only possible solution!"

"It's not in the rules!" John retorted.

Sherlock waved his right arm wildly as he shouted his reply. "Well, then the rules are wrong!"

The doorbell rang and all three of them froze simultaneously before looking to the stairs. Demi frowned.

"Single ring."

"Maximum pressure, just under the half second." Sherlock added, silvery blue eyes lighting up.

"Client." Finished all three of them.

**Review!**


	2. Chapter 2

The client was a young, rather large eared man called Henry Knight. He was anxious and shy, flushing slightly red when Demi smiled brightly and offered him a cup of tea – an offer he, incidentally, accepted before sitting down, anxiously tapping his right foot. When questioned about why he was there he held out a DVD – self recorded obviously – labelled 'Report'. Demi had put it on after handing around tea and they all turned to watch the screen.

"_Dartmoor. It's always been a place of myth and legend. But is there something else lurking out here? Something very real? Because Dartmoor is also home to one of the government's most secretive operations, the Chemical and Biological weapons research centre, which is said to be even more sensitive than Porton Down." _Demi could see Sherlock's eyes sliding between the image on the screen and the man sat opposite him. From where she was leaning on the desk, she placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder – though whether it was to restrain him from another childish outburst or encourage the thinking that was going on behind those eyes was anybody's guess. _"Since the end of the second world war, there have been persistent stories about the Baskerville experiments. Genetic mutations. Animals grown for the battlefield. There are many who believe that within this compound, in the heart of this ancient wilderness, there are horrors beyond imagining. But the real question is are all of them still inside?" _

Suddenly, Henry himself appeared on the screen. The wall behind him was baby blue, an obscure artistic canvas behind his head and a generic blue lamp to his left. He'd dressed up for the occasion, in shirt and tie, but refused to make eye contact with the camera as he spoke.

"_I was just a kid. It was on the moor, it was dark but I know what I saw." _He spoke as the words 'Henry Knight, Grimpen resident' appeared on screen shortly before a drawing of a grotesque looking wolf – labelled 'Henry's drawing (aged 9)'. _"I know what killed my father."_

Sherlock sighed as he turned the screen off and Demitria's hand dug into his shoulder slightly. Her nails were short – a requirement of her job – but the firmness of her grip more than made up for the lack of nail pressure.

"What did you see?" Sherlock's tone was bored.

"Oh.." Henry seemed taken aback by the sudden focus on him, "I…I was just about to say." He gestured weakly to the screen.

"Yes, in a TV interview. I prefer to do my own editing."

"Yes. Sorry, yes, of course…" He turned to face them more directly. "Excuse me." He nervously blew his nose on a tissue he pulled from his pocket, eyes darting upwards for any signs that his behaviour was putting his companions off his company.

"In your own time." John spoke kindly, Demi smiling.

"But quite quickly." Added Sherlock, Demitria's grip tightening on his shoulder again.

Henry took a deep breath.

"Do you know Dartmoor, Mr Holmes?"

"No." Answered Sherlock shortly as Demi nodded.

"It's an amazing place. It's like nowhere else, it's sort of bleak but beautiful."

"Hmm. Not interested, moving on." Sherlock's bored monotone interrupted Henry's quiet speech. The poor man swallowed nervously and continued.

"We used to go for walks after my mum died- just my dad and me. Every evening we'd go out onto the moor."

Sherlock sighed again.

"Yes, good, skipping to the night that your dad was violently killed." He spoke rapidly. The speech was accompanied by a muffled slap as Demi whacked the back of his head for his complete lack of sympathy. Sherlock ignored it as well as he could and continued, "Where did that happen?"

"There's a place, it's a sort of local landmark called Dewer's Hollow. That's an ancient name for the Devil."

"So?" Questioned Sherlock.

"Did you see the Devil that night?" Asked John. Henry looked at him and nodded.

"Yes." He spoke in a whisper. "It was huge. It got him. Tore at him, tore him apart. I can't remember anything else, they found me the next morning just wandering on the moor. My Dad's body was never found."

John nodded.

"Hmm… …some sort of what? Dog? Wolf?"

"Or a genetic experiment?" Demi's eyes narrowed at Sherlock's tone…as did Henry's.

"Are you laughing at me, Mr Holmes?"

"Why, are you joking?"

Henry stared open mouthed for a moment.

"My Dad was always going on about the things they were doing at Baskerville. About the type of monsters they were breeding there. People used to laugh at him. At least the TV people took me seriously."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"I assume it did wonders for Devon tourism?"

Demi rolled her eyes and John sighed before speaking.

"Yeah, Henry…whatever did happen to your father…it was twenty years ago…why come to us now?"

Henry was twisting his handkerchief between his hands.

"I'm not sure you can help me, Mr Holmes, since you find it all so funny!" He made to stand up, but Sherlock cut across him.

"Because of what happened last night."

Demi frowned and looked at Sherlock.

"Why? What happened last night?" Asked John.

"How…how did you know?" Henry asked from the doorway.

"I didn't know, I noticed."

"Here we go…" Murmured Demi, checking her phone as Sherlock launched into observation mode.

"You came up from Devon on the first available train this morning. You had a disappointing breakfast and a cup of black coffee. The girl in the seat across the aisle fancied you. Although you were initially keen, you've changed your mind. You are, however, extremely anxious to have your first cigarette of the day. Sit down, Mr Knight. And do please smoke, I'd be delighted."

John sighed heavily as Henry Knight made his way back to the armchair.

"How on Earth did you notice all that? Does he do that a lot?" The latter part of the sentence was directed at Demi, who looked up from her phone and nodded.

"Yup. All the time. And I mean _all _the time. You get used to it." She smiled slightly as Sherlock's eyes flickered to hers before he launched into his explanation.

"Punched out holes where your ticket's been checked."

"Not now Sherlock…" John tried.

"Oh please, I've been cooped up here for ages and Demitria's been at work."

"You're just showing off." John added.

"Of course, I am a show-off, that's what we do." He nodded before continuing, "Train napkin you used to mop up the spilled coffee, strength of the stain shows that you didn't take milk. There are traces of ketchup on it and round your lips and on your sleeve: cooked breakfast. Or the nearest thing those trains can manage, probably a sandwich." His eyebrow twitched upwards.

"How did you know it was disappointing?" Asked Henry, genuinely confused.

"Is there any other type of breakfast available on a train?" Offered Demi. Henry raised his eyebrows in agreement.

"The girl, female handwriting's quite distinctive, wrote her phone number down in the napkin. I can tell from the angle that she was sat across from you on the other side of the aisle. Later, after she'd got off I imagine, you used the napkin to mop up your spilled coffee, accidentally smudging the numbers. You've been over the last four digits yourself with another pen so you wanted to keep the number. Just now, though, you used the napkin to blow your nose. Maybe you're not that into her after all. Then there's the nicotine stains on your fingers, your shaking fingers. I know the signs, even Demitria has a faint trembling in her fingers though not too obvious since she's been trying to quit for some time and so has grown used to withdrawal. No time to smoke on the train, no time to roll one before you got a cab here. It's just after 9:15, you're desperate. The first train from Exeter to London leaves at 5:46a.m. You got the first one possible so something important must have happened last night. Am I wrong?" His eyes widened as he finished and Demi shook her head in amusement. Henry stared for a moment before taking a deep, shaking breath.

"No, you're right. You're…you're completely, exactly right. Bloody hell, I heard you were quick…"

"It's my job." Sherlock leaned forwards towards him, "Now shut up and smoke!"

Henry pulled out a cigarette and lighter and Demi cleared her throat, tapping her right foot and trying to focus on anything except the cigarette. She'd been trying to quit for years now, finding that she rarely needed one when busy on a case or at work. But Sherlock smoked and she spent enough time around him to relapse occasionally – hence the pact to quit smoking together, which he had been talked into while half asleep. She had filmed it as proof.

John coughed.

"Um…Henry, your parents both died and you were what? Seven years old?"

Demi grabbed Sherlock's jacket as he leaned forwards to inhale the smoke from the cigarette, pulling him back and sending him a stern look. Frowning, he tugged forwards experimentally and sighed when her hand moved up to tightly grip his collar.

"That must have been quite a trauma." Continued John, "Have you ever thought that you invented this story to account for it?"

Demi's fingers grazed Sherlock's neck in both a comforting and restricting gesture – she still had firm grip on his collar – as smoke continued to curl upwards from the cigarette.

"That's what Dr Mortimer says." Frowned Henry.

"Who?" John asked, curiously leaning forwards.

"His therapist." Spoke Demi and Sherlock as Henry said "My therapist" and stared at them curiously.

"Obviously." Added Sherlock, smiling.

"Louise Mortimer. She's the reason I came back to Dartmoor. She thinks I have to face my demons."

"And what happened when you went back to Dewer's Hollow last night, Henry?" At Henry's silence, Sherlock continued, "You went there on the advice of your therapist and now you're consulting a detective."

Demi leaned forwards.

"Something changed everything didn't it Henry? What did you see?"

Henry anxiously inhaled what seemed to be half on his cigarette before speaking.

"It's a strange place, the Hollow. Makes you feel so cold inside, so afraid."

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Yes, if I wanted poetry, I'd read John's emails to his girlfriends, much funnier."

Henry watched curiously as Demi rolled her eyes and swatted Sherlock's shoulder.

"Sherlock, be nice. Ignore him Henry- he's a bully, what did you see?" Her eyes were big and blue, friendly and inviting and shaped like perfect almonds. Henry certainly found it easier to talk to this woman than Mr Holmes.

"Footprints." He whispered, relaxing slightly as she smiled supportively, "On the exact spot where I saw my father torn apart."

"A man's or a woman's?" Asked John.

"Neither. They were…"

"Is that it?" Asked Sherlock, "Nothing else? Footprints, is that all?"

Henry frowned.

"Yes, but they were…"

"No, sorry," Sherlock cut across him, "Dr Mortimer wins. Childhood trauma masked by an invented memory. Boring! Goodbye, Mr Knight. Thank you for smoking."

"But what about the footprints?" Henry tried again.

"Oh, well, they're probably paw prints. Could be anything, therefore nothing." He leaned forwards, making shooing motions with his hands, "Off to Devon with you, have a cream tea on me." He stood and headed towards the kitchen.

"Mr Holmes." Henry spoke more forcefully. "They were the footprints of a gigantic hound!"

Sherlock halted. Demi frowned.

"Say that again." Sherlock demanded, turning round.

"I found footprints. They were…"

"No, Henry, your exact words." Demi cut in, "What did you say?"

Henry frowned.

"Mr Holmes," He repeated slowly, "They were the footprints of a gigantic hound."

Demi and Sherlock shared a look and John got the distinct impression that this was another one of those moments where he was missing out on something vital and they probably weren't going to fill him in on it.

"I'll take the case." Sherlock announced.

John looked up again. "Sorry, what?"

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention, it's very promising."

"No, no, no, sorry, what?!" John repeated, "A minute ago footprints were boring, now they're promising?"

"It's got nothing to do with footprints. As ever, John, you weren't listening. Baskerville, ever heard of it?"

He frowned deeply. "Vaguely. It's very hush-hush."

"Sounds like a good place to start."

Henry looked delighted. "Ah, you'll come down then?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes slightly. "No, I can't leave London at the moment, far too busy. But don't worry, I'm putting my best men onto it."

Demi stood up.

"To hell you are, not this again! And I have work!"

"And what are you talking about, you're busy? You don't have a case."

"Bluebell, John! I've got bluebell! The case of the vanishing, glow-in-the-dark rabbit." He turned to Henry, "NATO's in uproar."

Henry looked slightly put out. "You're not coming then?"

Sherlock sighed deeply and looked right at Demitria, his eyes wide and pleading and very, very un-Sherlock. She sighed.

"Fine."

Fishing inside her shirt, she withdrew a pack of cigarettes from her…undergarment, before passing them to him. Sherlock looked faintly surprised.

"That's where you hid my secret stash?"

"I knew you'd check the flat." She shrugged, "Besides I was at work, it's not like I was at risk of you finding them since removing one's clothing in a morgue is generally considered socially incorrect."

"Well," He threw them over his shoulder and she watched as they landed in an empty chemical beaker, "I don't need them anymore, I'm going to Dartmoor. You go on ahead, Henry, we'll follow later."

Henry stood. "So you are coming?"

Demi had never seen a man look more confused – or flustered – in her life.

"Twenty year old disappearance? A monstrous hound? Wouldn't miss this for the world!"

He marched out and there was a moment of silence before Demi followed him out.

"Sherlock there's still the slight issue of me working this week!"

**Review!**


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock stood in Demitria's bedroom doorway, watching her pack and smirking. She glared up at him.

"You can't just pay off my employers to let me go for 'as long as you need me', I'm fairly certain that's in violation of my work contract."

"Molly doesn't mind the extra shifts, besides I want you with me, you at least partially comprehend what's going on most of the time. It's a welcome break from the naivety of society as a whole."

Demitria sighed, shoving a patterned bag of toiletries into the battered suitcase before throwing her clothes in on top.

"And you're sure it won't be more than a week?" She inquired, looking up at him with an eyebrow raised. He scoffed.

"Please, we'll be done in half that time."

"Modesty isn't one of your virtues is it dear?"

"Not one I've been inflicted with, and since when did you refer to me as 'dear'? You've been spending too much time with Mrs Hudson."

She smiled, picking up her suitcase and walking over.

"Well then, let's not keep poor Henry waiting."

They made their way to where John was heaving his own bag down the stairs, sidling out of Baker Street towards the waiting cab. From inside the sandwich shop Mrs Hudson's voice could be heard, reaching a pitch that Demi was certain was as high as the human voice could reach. She frowned in concern, eyebrows shooting skywards as her aunt threw something and it just missed the sandwich shop owner.

"Oh!" John exclaimed, "Looks, like Mrs Hudson finally got to the wife in Doncaster…"

"Hmm." Sherlock nodded, watching as Demi threw her bag into the cab trunk, "Wait until she finds out about the one in Islamabad."

They climbed into the cab once their bags were secured, Demi sandwiched between the two men.

"Paddington station, please." She requested with a smile, Sherlock frowning as the cabbie eagerly pulled out onto the road.

"I do wish you wouldn't do that." He muttered darkly, Demi smirked.

"I'm just being nice. You should try it once in a while."

John just shook his head and looked out of the window.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

As Demi was the only person out of the three of them with a valid driver's license – despite the fact that Sherlock was certain he could drive, having watched many other people do so – she was the one who drove the rental car to Dartmoor.

Exactly how Sherlock had managed to rent a Jeep, she wasn't entirely certain. Demi merely accepted the fact that Sherlock's superiority complex meant it was unlikely he'd rent a smart car. No it had to be big.

Sherlock himself had, of course, decided that if Demitria was going to drive them around, he was going to sit next to her in the front and inform her that she was doing it wrong.

"I know how to drive Sherlock."

"You haven't driven in years, no need to when you're at University and you live in a city where taking a cab is much more convenient."

"I did take gap years between my degrees you know."

"Yes, to work, in cities. So driving wasn't exactly a necessity then was it?"

She was considering knocking herself out on the steering wheel by this point and it must have showed because John stepped in.

"Sherlock, I'm sure Demi is a very capable driver. Now please shut up and stop distracting her."

"Like that's going to happen, John." She sighed, "Though do in fact shut up, Sherlock, or you'll be walking to Dartmoor."

They stopped by a cluster of rocks to get a look at the local landscape, armed with a map that Sherlock had procured from one of his coat pockets.

"There's Baskerville." Pointed John, speaking up to Sherlock, who was perched atop the rock cluster, "Uh, that's Grimpen Village over there…" He pointed in the opposite direction, "So that must be Dewer's Hollow over there."

Demi scowled into the distance, mid way up the rocks between John and Sherlock.

"What's that?" She pointed just past the hollow. John, once again, consulted the map, looking through his binoculars.

"A minefield? Technically, Baskerville is an army base, so I guess they've always been keen to keep people out…"  
"Clearly." Sherlock remarked, "On to the village, Demitria are you sure you don't want me to drive?"

Her eyes narrowed and she threw a balled up receipt at the back of his head as he hastily headed for the car.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Grimpen Village was a quaint, sunny little place just like any other countryside village, with a pub, an off-licence and rows of picturesque cottages. Demi pulled into a parking spot near the bed and breakfast and eyed a nearby touring group for a moment before undoing her seatbelt and launching herself out of the car. As they headed towards the Cross Keys, the tour guide appeared to be finishing up.

"All right, three tours a day. Tell your friends, tell anyone! Don't be strangers, and remember, stay away from the Moors at night if you value your lives!" He finished menacingly, leaning on his 'Beware of the Hound' tour sign. "Take care."

Sherlock rolled up his collar and Demi looked at him, one eyebrow raised.

"It's cold." He stated defensively, and she smiled, shaking her head as she shielded her eyes from the sun and entered the Bed and Breakfast. Sherlock scanned his surroundings as Demi waltzed over to the front desk.

"Three reservations under Watson?" She inquired, smiling. Sherlock had decided that his name would be too easily recognised – Demi just thought he thought it was below him to reserve rooms in a bed and breakfast. Regardless, since he'd been the one to drag them away from their respective jobs, he was the one paying for everything. She handed over the money – cash payments left less of a trace, Sherlock was always grumbling about Mycroft following them around – and the man behind the counter smiled.

"Let's see…Watson, there we are. Three singles. Righto, I'll just get your change."

John nudged her and pointed to a receipt on the counter…for meat supplies.

"I thought this was all vegetarian?" She inquired, lips hardly moving. John had no idea how she did that.

"It is." He subtly ripped the note from the stand and shoved it into his pocket.

"There you go." She was handed her change and she smiled.

"Thanks…I couldn't help noticing, on the map of the moor, a skull and crossbones?"

"Oh that…" The man nodded, ad she raised an eyebrow.

"Pirates?"  
"No, no…The Great Grimpen Minefield, they call it. Baskerville testing site, it's been going for eighty odd years. I'm not sure anyone really knows what's there anymore."

Demi watched Sherlock out of the corner of her eye, scouring the place for clues.

"Explosives?" John cut in, noting her distraction. The man shook his head.

"Oh, not just explosives. They say if you break into there – if you're lucky – you'll just get blown up. Buggers up tourism a bit, so thank God for the demon hound!" He chuckled, "Did you see that show? The documentary?"

They nodded.

"God bless Henry Knight and his monster from hell."

"Have you ever seen it?" Asked Demi, as Sherlock looked over to them, "The Hound?"

"Me?" the man shook his head, "No, no…Fletcher has. He runs the walks, the monster walks for the tourists you know?" He pointed to the tour guide outside.

"That's handy." Noted John, "For trade."

Another man appeared behind the bar, in a white chef's jacket, and the bearded man turned to face him.

"I'm just saying we've been rushed off our feet, Billy."

"Yeah, lots of monster hunters." Nodded Billy, "doesn't take much these days…one mention on Twitter and woomph! We're out of WKD." He added, facing his co-worker. "What with the monster and the ruddy prisoner, I don't know how we sleep nights, do you Gary?"  
The bearded man, now labelled as 'Gary' in their minds, sidled along behind him and rested his hand on Billy's shoulder.

"Like a baby."  
"That's not true." Commented Billy, rolling his eyes at Demi, "He's a snorer. Is yours a snorer?" He asked, eyeing John. Demi giggled.

"Oh this isn't my boyfriend, John's just a friend. Sherlock's my one." She gestured to him, and he looked vaguely affronted at being claimed, "He doesn't snore, just keeps odd hours…and his feet are bloody freezing!"  
"Oh I know how you feel dear," Billy rolled his eyes again, "Like blocks of ice his are."

"Demitria, John." Sherlock walked briskly over, before she could reveal anything else. "Why don't we go take a look around the village?"

"There's another tour soon, if you're curious." Billy winked, "Dinner is from six until eight."

"Thank you!" Demi smiled as she was towed out the door.

**Voila! Review!**


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock grabbed a half empty pint glass off of a nearby table, eyeing the racing magazine in Fletcher's pocket as the man walked away, before handing the pint glass to Demitria and pushing her forwards. Multiple repeats of social experimentation had shown that potential witnesses of average IQ generally responded better to Demitria than himself when questioned, and he'd scarcely seen any more average than the tour guide presented to them. Demitria narrowed her eyes at him before adopting her 'friendly face' - which was not used exceptionally often around Sherlock himself- and sidling over.

"Mind if I join you?"

He gave her a blatant once over and nodded.

"Yeah."

She set the pint glass down and leaned towards him interestedly.

"It's not true is it? You haven't seen this Hound thing?"

Sherlock certainly did not approve of the way this painfully average man appeared to think himself worthy of Demitria's attention, so much so in fact that he blatantly scanned her approvingly as she leaned towards him.

"You from the papers?" He inquired as Sherlock and John sat at a nearby table and attempted to look normal.

"No, nothing like that…just curious…I mean the stories are really something." She smiled, "Have you seen it?"  
"Maybe." He shrugged, attempting to look 'cool'. Demi could almost hear Sherlock's eyes rolling in their sockets. "Why?"  
She giggled.

"Well you see I made a bet with my friends over there…" She pointed to Sherlock and John, "I bet £50 that you could prove you'd seen it, Sherlock said you couldn't." She shrugged.

He looked over at them.

"Which one of you is Sherlock?" He inquired, his eyes narrow. Sherlock lazily raised one hand and looked at Demitria.

"I told you he couldn't prove it." He shrugged, and for a moment John marvelled at how much they looked like a normal couple and not a pair of geniuses who had recently had an hour long shouting match regarding whether or not it was acceptable to keep body parts in the kitchen. Ultimately this had resulted in Demi buying Sherlock a mini fridge to store his experiments in (though where she got the money to do so he wasn't sure…although he suspected Mycroft had something to do with it) and stating that if she found anything near the food she'd torch Sherlock's trench coat.

"Well you're going to lose your money mate." Announced Fletcher smugly, bringing John back to reality.

"Yeah?" Asked Sherlock somewhat sarcastically.

"Yeah. I seen it, only about a month ago. Up at the hollow. It was foggy, mind, couldn't make much out…" He looked to Demitria, who had on an expression of rapt fascination which seemed to spur him on, "There."

He held out his phone to Sherlock, who took in the image on the screen and snorted derisively.

"Is that it? It's not exactly proof is it? Sorry Demitria, I win."

"Wait! Wait, that's not all!" Cut in Fletcher, "People don't like going up there, you know, to the Hollow. Gives them a…bad sort of feeling."  
"Ooh is it haunted?" Sherlock asked bitingly, and Demitria swatted at him, appearing to be engrossed in Fletcher's story. She was alarmingly good at that. For all John knew she could be mentally reciting Bohemian Rhapsody in her head.

"Nah, don't be stupid, nothing like that. But I reckon there is something out there. Something from Baskerville. Escaped. God knows what they've been spraying on us all these years, or putting in the water. I wouldn't trust them as far as I could spit."

"Is that the best you've got?" Goaded Sherlock, raising an eyebrow. Fletcher pursed his lips.

"I had a mate once who worked for the MOD. One weekend we were meant to go fishing, but he never showed up. Well not till late, when he did he was white as a sheet. I can see him now. 'I've seen things today, Fletch,' he said 'Things I ain't never wanting to see again. Terrible things'. He'd been to some top secret army base. Maybe even Baskerville. And in the labs there, the really secret labs, he said he'd seen…terrible things. Rats as big as dogs, he said. And dogs… dogs the size of horses."

He reached into his backpack and withdrew a plaster-mould of a paw print. A big paw print. John watched as Demi and Sherlock took it in, every detail, every crevice, before Demi smirked and coughed.

"Um…we did say £50?"

Fletcher smirked and Demi grinned at him while Sherlock faux-reluctantly pulled £50 from his wallet and handed it over with a flourish.

"Told you so." She smiled at him and he rolled his eyes. Fletcher not-too-subtly left Demitria his number before heading off and she tucked it into her pocket. John smirked at Sherlock's expression, his face contorted in disgust.

"You're _keeping_ that?" He demanded, scowling. Demi laughed.

"Of course I am, in case we need to contact him again you plonker."  
Sherlock, who disliked being insulted in any way, narrowed his eyes before stalking off to the car.

"We're going to Baskerville." He announced over his shoulder, "And unless you want me to drive I suggest you keep up!"

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Demi was glad she'd worn 'smart' clothes as they drove up to the army base. She had a feeling that if she'd turned up in jeans and a Marilyn Manson t-shirt, things wouldn't go well. As it was, John was panicking in the back seat and Sherlock was as cool as a cucumber beside her.

"So how are we getting in?" She inquired coolly, taking in the electric fences, barbed wire and angry looking patrol dogs. Sherlock reached into his coat and brandished a card. She glanced over as he slowed.

"Mycroft's….how did you get that?!"

He just smirked and she rolled her eyes.

"He's going to be furious…"  
"I don't care. Are you back on speaking terms after he inappropriately manhandled you then?" He asked lightly, ignoring her eye roll.

"It wasn't inappropriate manhandling, Sherlock. Just misread body signals."  
"You cried."  
"I was slightly drunk at the time. Plus you were being a total-"

"ID please." Cut in the guard she stopped next to as she rolled down the window and handed over Mycroft's card. He nodded and went off to check it.

"If we get arrested…" She began, smiling as a guard and dog passed by.  
"Then I have no doubts my brother will smooth it all over."  
"With us maybe," added John, "You he'd leave in prison. And we will be caught, within five minutes…'Oh hi, just thought we'd come and have a wander around your top secret weapons base.' 'Really? Great! Come in, kettle's just boiled.'…That is if we don't get shot…"

"Here you are." The guard handed the pass back and Demi smiled.

"Thank you very much."

John looked shocked.

"Mycroft's name literally opens doors…"  
"Sherlock's usually makes people slam them." Added Demi.

Sherlock didn't bother responding, still looking smug about getting them onto the base.

"I reckon we've got about twenty minutes before they realise something is wrong."

She parked the Land Rover and they climbed out. Demi pulled her jacket (an 'apology' gift from Sherlock following the fridge debate, which she strongly suspected hadn't been his idea and probably had more to do with showing off his relationship status to his brother than apologising to her) tighter to her, knuckles tightening beneath the leather gloves she'd received for her 30th birthday (most likely for exactly the same reasons) as John and Sherlock assembled either side of her. They followed a soldier across the site, taking in the lines of pipe work and heavily armed vehicles, and another soldier trotted quickly towards them.

"What is it? Are we in trouble?"  
"Are we in trouble, sir?" Corrected Sherlock, much to the amusement of his two companions.

"Yes sir, sorry sir."  
"You were expecting us?" Asked Demi politely, smiling.

"Mr Holmes' ID showed up straight away, ma'am." He nodded respectfully, "Corporal Lyons, security. Is there something wrong, sir?" He turned once again to Sherlock.

"Well, I hope not, Corporal. I hope not."

"It's just…we don't get inspected here you see, sir. It just doesn't happen."

John looked around before cutting in.

"Never heard of a spot check? Captain John Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers." He pulled out his wallet, brandishing a military ID and saluting. Corporal Lyons saluted back and spoke once more.

"Sir! Major Barrymore won't be pleased, sir. He'll want to see you both."

Demitria's phone vibrated in her pocket as Mycroft called her. Sherlock subtly reached in and took it, rejecting the call before putting it into his own coat pocket while the Corporal was distracted. Were glares palpable, hers would have been burning into his face as he smirked.

"I'm afraid we won't have time for that, we'll need the full tour." John spoke again, his voice thick with authority. "Right away, carry on."

The Corporal hesitated.

"That's an order, Corporal."  
"Yes sir." He nodded, setting off again. They followed and Demi smiled.

"What?" Asked John, glancing over.

"I love it when you talk military to me John." She winked exaggeratedly and he rolled his eyes, shoving her slightly.

"I haven't pulled rank in ages."  
"Enjoy it?" She grinned.  
"Oh yeah."

The Corporal and Sherlock swiped their IDs, and entered the building before them. The proverbial point of no return. As they entered the series of bright white corridors, Sherlock could feel Demitria's phone vibrating in his pocket. She leaned towards him slightly and whispered into his ear.

"Can I have that back?"  
"Absolutely not, you know who's calling."

She tried to reach into his pocket and he grabbed her wrist gently.

"Tut tut, is that any way for a professional to be behaving on the job?"  
"What am I anyway?" She hissed, "You're Mycroft and John's a Captain, what about me?"

"PA." He responded lightly, smirking at her expression – an odd mixture of anger, horror and mortification. She walked on ahead slightly, feeling suddenly self conscious. She was dressed for work, in her 'nice' trousers and a dark blue blouse her aunt had bought her, but she still felt like a fake. Reminding herself of how much was at stake and of why they were there, she took a deep breath and walked further into the labyrinth of corridors.

**Review!**


	5. Chapter 5

A floor below was some sort of lab. People in forensic suits and face masks marched around the frighteningly bright room, and monkeys screamed and rattled their cages as the newcomers walked past. Demi eyed one of them curiously.

"Looks like my brother." She commented, smirking when the Corporal coughed to hide his laugh. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"How many animals do you keep down here?"  
"Lots, sir."  
"Any ever escape?"

"They'd have to know how to use that lift sir." He commented, vaguely sarcastically. "We're not breeding them that clever."

"Well you know what they say, give a hundred monkeys a typewriter…" Demi commented, mostly to herself as she more closely inspected the monkey that bore the unnatural resemblance to Sebastian. An older man in a biohazard suit walked over. "...And eventually they will type out the works of Shakespeare." He smiled at Demi, "And you are?" The latter question appeared to be aimed at the group at large, but the Corporal answered for them.

"I'm sorry, Doctor Frankland, I'm just showing these gentlemen…and lady…around base. "  
"Ah new faces! How nice." He certainly did look pleased. "Careful you don't get stuck here, though. I only came to fix a tap."

Demi smiled and John chuckled good naturedly as the man set off again.

"How far down does that lift go?" Asked John.

"Quite a way sir."

He nodded.

"And what's down there?"  
"Well we have to keep the bins somewhere sir." He smiled pleasantly, "This way please."

He walked off, Demi and John following. After staring around the room for a moment, Sherlock followed.

"So what exactly is it you do here?" Asked John.

"I thought you'd know sir," the Corporal smiled pleasantly, "This being an inspection."

"Well I'm not an expert, am I?" John bit back, just as pleasantly.

"Everything from stem cell research to trying to cure the common cold, sir."

"But mostly weaponry?" John inquired.

"Of one sort or another, yes."

"Biological, chemical…"  
"One war ends, another begins, sir. New enemies to fight, we have to be prepared."

Demi nodded and flashed a smile, hoping to shake off the suspicion she detected in his voice as Sherlock scanned the key card again.

"Demitria do you have the time?" He asked, curiously. She checked her watch.

"Twelve thirty two, Mr Holmes."

As they entered a new room, a monkey wearing a collar held his hand out in the well known 'stop' motion, screeching like a banshee.

"Okay Michael. Let's try Halo three next time." A woman with sandy brown hair noted something down on a clipboard.

"Dr Stapleton?" Asked the Corporal, approaching respectfully.

"Stapleton…" Sherlock muttered, and Demi's eyes lit up. John, feeling distinctly left out, cleared his throat – to no avail, it seemed, as his flatmates continued to ignore him.

"Yes?" She responded, looking up at the entering group of people, "Who's this?"

"Priority ultra, ma'am." He paused, "An inspection."

"Really?" She took in the newcomers. Stood, it seemed, in height order they dominated the clean, white room like three shadows on a white sheet. The tallest man, and the woman beside him, were somewhat similar, with black hair and pale skin, though the man's hair was a shade lighter, and where the woman's eyes were a frighteningly bright blue, his were more silver. The man on the far right of the group was shorter, stouter, holding his shoulders like a military man.

And all three of them were looking right at her.

"We're to be accorded every courtesy, Dr Stapleton." The tallest man noted. "What's your role at Baskerville?"

She laughed and the woman arched an eyebrow.

"Accorded _every_ courtesy, isn't that the idea?" The shorter man noted.

"I'm not free to say. Official secrets." She looked between the three of them curiously.

"Oh you most certainly are free. And I suggest you remain that way." What started as a pleasant smile morphed into something much more serious as Sherlock spoke.

"I have a lot of fingers in a lot of pies. I like to mix things up. Genes mostly. Now and again…actual fingers."

The woman looked up at the taller man when Dr Stapleton said that, and after a moment he nodded.

"Stapleton, I knew I knew your name."

"I doubt it." Scoffed Dr Stapleton.

"People say there's no such thing as coincidence." His eyebrows wiggled slightly as he wrote something on a pad of paper, "What dull lives they must lead."

He thrust the pad of paper forwards, the word BLUEBELL lazily scrawled across it. Corporal Lyons looked confused as he gazed between the paper and Dr Stapleton.

"Have you been talking to my daughter?" Frowned the mousey haired woman.

"Why did Bluebell have to die, Dr Stapleton?" Asked Sherlock, smirking slightly as he saw Demitria purse her lips in an effort to stop herself stepping above her fictional 'rank' by being sarcastic.

"The rabbit?" John frowned in realisation.

"Disappeared from inside a locked hutch, which was always suggestive."

Dr Stapleton looked up at him almost fearfully.

"Clearly an _inside_ _job._" Demi bounced her fingers to emphasise her point.

"Oh, you reckon?" Dr Stapleton raised her eyebrows at the woman, who looked back flatly with a distinctly unimpressed air about her.

"Why?" The taller man continued, "Because it glowed in the dark?"

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. Who are you?" Dr Stapleton's arms were crossed protectively across her chest as she frowned up at him.

The woman checked her watch.

"Uh…Mr Holmes we're on a tight schedule." She addressed the taller man, her voice hitching only slightly above the bored monotone she'd used beforehand. The man – a Mr Holmes apparently – nodded.

"Yes indeed, I think we've seen enough for now Corporal. Thank you so much."

The Corporal frowned.

"That's it?"  
"That's it." Sherlock nodded, "It's this way isn't it?"

They set off, and Dr Stapleton called after them.

"Just a minute!"  
John looked flatly at his two companions as they walked. "Did we just break into an army base to investigate a rabbit?"

Demi smiled slightly as Sherlock swiped the key card.

"More importantly, can I have my phone back now?" She added quietly. He just smiled and she huffed slightly, hearing it buzz again in Sherlock's pocket. As if to taunt her, he whipped her phone out of his pocket and tapped the screen.

"Huh. Twenty three minutes, he's getting slow. He does seem to text you an awful lot however."  
"Yes Sherlock, friends tend to do that. Now give me my phone or I'll take something of yours and it won't be pleasant." Demi hissed.

He smirked and she glared.

"Patience, Demitria."

He scanned the card again and they walked through yet another set of doors. The man in the white coat from earlier stood in the waiting elevator.

"Oh, Hello again!"

As the elevator doors pinged open, the bearded man from the first floor was standing inches away from them. Demi jumped and clutched a hand to her chest.

"Jesus Christ! Standing a bit close to the door there aren't we?"

He glared at her as the Corporal spoke anxiously.

"Ah, Major, this is-"

"Bloody outrageous! Why wasn't I told?" He demanded, cutting the poor man off.

"Major Barrymore is it?" John inquired, distracting the man from a flustered Demi. "Yes, well, good, very good. We're very impressed." He shook the major's hand as Sherlock checked Demitria's phone again.

'_Sherlock, give the lady her phone back. Now. – M'_

"Aren't we, Mr Holmes?" John continued.

"Deeply." He nodded, "Hugely."

He began to walk by, his two companions following.

"The whole point of Baskerville was to eliminate this sort of bureaucratic nonsense!" The Major huffed.

Demi smiled sweetly. "So sorry Major. New policy."

"Inspections?!" He continued to rant.

"You can't remain unmonitored forever, goodness knows what you'd get up to." Sherlock noted smoothly, continuing down the corridor.

"Sir!" The Corporal slammed an alarm, "ID unauthorised, sir."

Demi froze. Great, she was going to prison. Bloody fantastic. She was going to spend the rest of her life as someone's bitch…

"What?" Sherlock turned, less petrified, clearly, than his companions.

"I've just had the call." The Corporal gasped, out of breath.

"Is that right?" Inquired the Major, facing Sherlock, "Who are you?"

"Look." John stepped forwards, "There's obviously been some kind of mistake."

The Major snatched Sherlock's ID.

"Clearly not, Mycroft Holmes."

John began to babble about computer errors and reports as Doctor Frankland approached.

"It's alright, Major." He grinned, "I know exactly who these men…and young lady," he nodded to Demi, "Are."

John frowned.

"You do?"

He smiled.

"Yeah, I'm getting a little slow on faces, but Mr Holmes here isn't someone I expected to show up in this place."

"Ah, well…" Sherlock began before Doctor Frankland cut across him.

"Good to see you again, Mycroft." He shook Sherlock's hand, "I had the honour of meeting Mr Holmes at the WHO conference in…" He paused, "Brussels, was it?"

Sherlock smiled.

"Vienna."

"Ah, Vienna, that was it." Nodded Doctor Frankland. "This is Mr Mycroft Holmes, Major. There's obviously been a mistake."

The Major paused and nodded to the Corporal, who proceeded to shut off the alarm.

"On your head be it, Doctor Frankland." He spoke coolly.

Demi, recovering from her prison-induced paralysis, smiled sweetly.

"Now, now, Major there's no need to be dramatic. We all make mistakes."

Doctor Frankland laughed.

"I'll show them out, Corporal."

"Very well sir." The young man nodded and the four of them left through the front doors of Baskerville.


	6. Chapter 6

Demi took a deep breath as they exited the building, glad that she wasn't doing so in handcuffs, and Sherlock's eyes skimmed over her as he looked to Dr Frankland.

"Thank you."  
"This is about Henry Knight, isn't it?" He inquired curiously, eyes bright with some form of excitement. He looked between the three visitors – who were looking at each other with an expression akin to either acute panic or almost complete disinterest – and smiled. "I thought so! I knew he wanted help but I didn't realise he was going to contact Sherlock Holmes!" After a moment he spoke again, "Oh don't worry I know who you really are, I'm never off your website. Thought you'd be wearing the hat though."

Demi snorted and Sherlock threw her a dark look, which she responded to – immensely maturely – by sticking her tongue out at him.

"That wasn't my hat." He spoke calmly as Demitria and John shared another amused glance at his expense.

"I hardly recognise him without the hat." Dr Frankland addressed Demi directly and she smiled.

"It wasn't my hat." Sherlock spoke again, slightly tense this time.

"I love the blog too, Doctor Watson."  
"Oh cheers." John grinned.

"The Pink Thing! And that one about the Aluminium crutch! And you, Demi, I've heard a lot about you…"  
"You know Henry Knight?" Sherlock cut in, bristling slightly.

Dr Frankland sighed.

"Well I knew his dad better. He had all sorts of mad theories about this place….Still he was a good friend." He looked sideways and caught site of the Major standing nearby and watching them with an expression akin to that of an angry hawk. "Listen I can't really talk now…Here's my cell number. If I can help with Henry, give me a call." He handed a card to Sherlock.

Sherlock and Demi were watching him closely and Demi cleared her throat.

"We never did ask, Doctor Frankland, what exactly is it that you do here?"

He chuckled.

"I would love to tell you Miss Blake, but then of course I'd have to kill you."

"That would be tremendously ambitious of you." Sherlock spoke without smiling and Demi put a hand on his arm. "Tell me about Doctor Stapleton."

"I never speak ill of a colleague."

"But you'd speak well of one which you're clearly omitting to do."

Dr Frankland raised his eyebrows.

"I do seem to be, don't I?"

"I'll be in touch." Sherlock waved the card. Dr Frankland nodded.

"Any time."

They walked away, Sherlock slipping the card into his coat pocket and withdrawing a phone, which he handed to Demi.

"So?" John asked as Demi typed furiously in response to a message, probably from Mycroft.

"So?" Countered Sherlock.

"What was all that about the rabbit?" He continued, eyeing Sherlock as he flipped his coat collar upwards. Demi rolled her eyes and smirked as John spoke.

"Oh please, can we not do this, this time?"  
"Do what?" Sherlock frowned.

"You being all mysterious with your…cheekbones and turning your coat collar up so you look cool…"

"I don't do that!" Argued Sherlock, climbing into the passenger seat beside Demitria who scoffed.

"Yeah you do." She nodded, smirking as Sherlock sulked.

X

Clouds rumbled ominously overhead as they sped away from the army base. Miraculously, Sherlock had stopped commenting on Demitria's driving, but his lips tightened occasionally whenever she did something that irritated him. Like not slowing down enough when going over a speed bump and causing the tallest occupant of the car – which was of course Sherlock himself – to head butt the car roof.

"So…" John cleared his throat to hide a laugh, "The email from Kirsty…the missing luminous rabbit?"  
"Kirsty _Stapleton_." Responded Sherlock, "Whose mother specialises in genetic manipulation."

John blinked.

"She made her daughter's rabbit glow in the dark?"  
"Probably a fluorescent gene." Nodded Demi, "She'd remove it and splice it into the rabbit."  
"Simple enough these days." Added Sherlock. Demi looked at him flatly.

"If I catch you making mutant rabbits in our kitchen there will be hell to pay, Sherlock." She then paused for a second and smirked, "Although I do like the sounds of a glowing rabbit…do you think Mycroft can get me one of the specimens from the lab?"  
Sherlock bristled.

"Don't be ridiculous Demitria, a woman of your age does not need a glowing pet."  
"A woman _of my age_?!" She demanded, eyebrows raised, "It's a good thing we've booked separate rooms mister or you'd be sleeping in the car!"

John looked between them, taking in the increasing speed of the car, and cut in before Sherlock got them killed or stopped for speeding.

"So, the importance of Dr Stapleton?"  
Sherlock looked at him like he was an idiot while Demi subtly eyed her reflection for obvious signs of ageing.

"So we know that Dr Stapleton performs secret genetic experiments on animals. The question is, has she been working on something deadlier than a rabbit?"

John smirked.

"To be fair that is quite a wide field."

Even Demi smiled at that one as they drove off to visit Henry Knight once more.


	7. Chapter 7

John subtly stood between Demi and Sherlock when they knocked on Henry's door, to avoid frightening their new client with the harsh reality of what she and Sherlock were like quite a lot of the time. Seeming not to notice the tension in the air when he opened the door, Henry smiled as he saw them.

"Hi, hi come in."

They entered the almost disturbingly large house, and John looked around open-mouthed. Demi and Sherlock, both of whom came from families with quite a lot of money but neither of which took very much advantage of said money (not that Demi could if she tried) looked around curiously, taking in their surroundings, before turning their attention back to Henry himself who led them to his kitchen.

Demi politely declined the offer of coffee, while Sherlock took full advantage of it, piling sugar into his mug while Henry spoke.

"It's…it's two words I keep seeing…'Liberty'…"  
"Liberty?" John confirmed as he wrote the word in his notebook.

"And 'In'." Finished Henry, looking exhausted. "Just those two." He turned to put the milk away.

"Mean anything to you?" John looked at his companions, who thankfully seemed to have put their irritation behind them.

"Liberty in death, isn't that the expression?" Sherlock inquired, looking at Demi who nodded.

"The only true freedom." She nodded as Henry returned.

"What now then?"  
There was a moment's silence.

"Sherlock's….got a plan?" Suggested John, and Demi muttered something about how his plans had a tendency to go awry, earning a scathing look from Sherlock himself who straightened slightly and spoke.

"Yes."  
"Right." Henry nodded, "…what is it?"

"We take you out onto the Moor and see if anything attacks you." Sherlock spoke pleasantly, smiling as Demi and John looked at him, questioning his sanity.

"What?" Demanded John.

"Well that should bring things to a head." Sherlock shrugged, sipping his coffee. Despite her incredulousness, Demi at least found it in herself to laugh at his phrasing there.

"At night?" Henry's voice wavered. "You want me to go there at night?"

Demi was silent, thinking the idea through, while John shook his head.

"That's your plan?!"

"Do you have any better ideas?" Inquired Sherlock coolly. "If there is a monster out there, John, then there's only one thing to do. Find out where it lives."

He smiled at Henry and took a sip of coffee.

"You agree with me, don't you Demitria?" He asked once he'd set his mug down, looking over to Demi who took a deep breath.

"While I can see your point…" Sherlock smirked and John raised his eyebrows, "I'm not sure this is the best way to go about things."

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Always focusing upon the ethical issues Demitria, too many years studying Psychology instead of putting your brain to good use."

She rolled her eyes and looked around the room.

"Any other suggestions or are we traipsing around the Moor again?"

X

It was cold on the Moor, Demi decided as she gripped her torch tightly in a leather clad hand, and she didn't like it one bit. The light was already fading from the landscape around them, the sky a pink tinged grey and her companions almost black silhouettes around her.

"Are you okay Henry?" She asked quietly as Sherlock strode on ahead. Henry smiled slightly and nodded.

"I'm fine."

She fell back a bit to walk alongside John as Henry and Sherlock – on longer legs than theirs – powered on ahead. They had just entered the edge of the trees when there was a rustling noise to their immediate right. Both John and Demi whirled around to point their torches at the source of the noise, while the others continued onwards.

"What was that?" Whispered John.

"I have no idea…let's go find out." Grinned Demi, stepping forwards into the trees. She bent down slightly to see further into the leaves as John looked around them. Far off in the distance a light flashed.

"Just a fox or something." Demi shrugged straightening, following John's line of sight. "What the-"

John tore a notebook and pen from his coat pocket.

"Morse code?" He suggested. She shrugged.

"You know more than I do, Captain John Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers." She grinned as he flushed slightly and noted down a few letters as the light continued to flash.

"U…M…Q…R..A…Umqra?"

Demi looked around them.

"Where are the others?"

He looked up from his notebook as the light stopped flashing, and around to where Demi was pointing her torch. Sherlock and Henry had vanished.

"Probably just continued down the path…"

They set off after them, torches clutched tightly in the ever thickening darkness.

"Sherlock?" She whispered as they rounded a corner, jumping as a bird flew from a nearby tree. "Where the hell is he?"

X

Sherlock was quite happily interrogating Henry.

"Met a friend of yours today."  
"Hmm?" Asked Henry, twitching nervously.

"Doctor Frankland?" He continued, surveying their surroundings.  
"Oh, Bob. Yeah." He smiled slightly.  
"Seems very concerned about you."  
"Well he's a worrier, bless him. He's been really kind to me since I got back."  
"He knew your dad, didn't he?"  
"Yeah." Henry smiled sadly, pausing in his steps before continuing again.  
"But he worked at Baskerville, didn't your dad have a problem with that?"

Henry shrugged.  
"Well mates are mates aren't they, I mean look at you, John and Demitria…."

"What about us?" Sherlock frowned.

"Well I mean he's a pretty straightforward bloke…and she's…lovely, really quite something…and you…" He trailed off, "I'm sorry that sounded disrespectful, I get the impression you two are…"  
"What?"  
"Together?" Henry frowned, that didn't seem quite the right word to use to describe Sherlock and Demitria, but he couldn't really do better under the circumstances. Sherlock was still frowning so he continued on a different tangent. "Anyway they agreed never to talk about work, Uncle Bob and my dad." He stopped dead, nodding directly ahead of them. "Dewer's Hollow."

X

Demitria was getting a bit tired now.

"Sherlock?"

"Ssh!" John whispered, frowning as she raised her voice.

"He always does this, I'm tempted to hide a tracker in his coat pocket."  
"He'd find it and attach it to a pigeon or something, we'd still lose him." John shrugged and she smiled slightly. They both froze as a groaning metallic sound echoed through the trees. Following it with beams of light, they found an empty barrel beneath a tree. Water dripped steadily down from where it had gathered in the remnants of a plastic bag lodged in the trees branches, and each drip caused the dull metallic thudding that broke silence in the surrounding area.

Demi chuckled. "Terrifying."

A howling noise took her off guard, and she took a step closer to John, gripping his arm.

"John? What's that?" She hissed, voice trembling slightly.

John blinked. He never thought Demi would be the one to be scared by what was really your stereotypical horror movie setting – she dissected corpses for a living after all – but then again he'd never seen her actually watching a horror movie, so he might have been wrong in his assumptions.

"I don't know." He breathed back, taking her hand comfortingly, "Come on, let's find the others."

They started off through the trees. Demi tore her hand from his suddenly, pointing ahead of them.

"There! I think I saw Henry!"

They sped up their pace, twigs snapping underfoot.

"Sherlock!" She waved as she saw them ahead, "Did you hear that?!"

"We saw it!" Shouted Henry, "We saw it!" His face was white and his eyes were wide.

"No, I didn't see anything." Sherlock insisted as he walked past, ignoring Demitria's stare.

"What are you talking about?!" Henry demanded, "We saw the Hound!"  
"I. Didn't. See. Anything..."


	8. Chapter 8

John took Henry home, while an uncharacteristically clingy Sherlock insisted that Demi accompany him back to the Bed and Breakfast, buying them each a cup of tea and settling down in front of the fireplace to wait for John.

"You look sort of peaky, are you okay?" Demi inquired, peering over her tea at a very pale (well, paler than usual) looking Sherlock. He didn't respond and she frowned slightly. "You could be coming down with something, all that running around in the cold and wet-"

"I'm in good health, Demitria, I can assure you." He said, too curtly for her to fully believe that he was okay. He pressed his hands together, as if he was praying - a habit of his – and pressed them to his lips, trembling slightly. She sighed, going to comfort him, but pausing, her hand half way raised, before lowering it again. She wasn't quite sure what to do; he'd never been like this. She could deal with Sherlock while manic, while angry…but she'd only ever seen him scared, really scared, when Moriarty had strapped bombs to his two best friends.

Thankfully, she was saved by John.

"Well, he's in a pretty bad way. He's manic." John settled himself into the chair to Demi's right. "Totally convinced there's some mutant, super-dog roaming the Moors…" His eyes flickered to Demi's. She looked worried, her eyebrows furrowed and her lips nervously pressing together every so often as though she was convincing herself not to say something. "And there isn't, though, is there?"

"Because if people knew how to make a mutant super-dog, we'd know. Right?" Chipped in Demi, sipping her cooling tea for lack of a better thing to do, and looking over to Sherlock. "Mycroft would probably have two already."

When that didn't get even the slightest of smirks out of Sherlock, she knew something was up. She watched him as John revealed his morse code findings, attempting to prompt Sherlock's brilliant mind into action and failing. All he did was close his eyes and take a deep breath through his nose.

"So what have we got?" John tried again, "Footprints…we all heard something…"

Sherlock's breathing was borderline erratic and Demi rested her hand on one of his in an attempt to calm him without drawing attention to him. His hands were cold, and the one she touched immediately closed around hers as if he were trying to grasp onto something, anything, that made sense.

"Maybe we should just look for whoever's got a big dog." John finished, eyes flickering to where Sherlock was apparently holding Demi's hand. Not one for displaying affection, especially not in public, this could only mean that Sherlock wasn't feeling himself.  
"Henry's right." Sherlock's voice was a hoarse whisper.  
"What?!" Demi's head snapped up, her eyes scrutinising every inch of his face.

"I saw it too." He went on, looking at the fire and not at her because if she doubted him he'd rather not be aware of it right now.

"You saw…what?" She asked quietly. He didn't like that tone, it was as if she thought he was going to blow up, or be carted off in a straightjacket. He couldn't blame her of course, she – like him – functioned using logic. And what he was saying wasn't entirely logical.  
"A hound." He turned to look at her, his eyes manic, "Out there in the Hollow. A gigantic hound!"

He was practically spitting the words out as her other hand rose to wrap around his. He was scaring her slightly but she could tell he was scaring himself too. He didn't need her to back away.

Maybe, for the first time in his life, Sherlock needed someone else's help and wasn't going to deny it.

"Um…" John raised his eyebrows, "Look, Sherlock. We have to be rational about this. Okay? And you of all people can't just-" He paused, looking at Demi as Sherlock ripped his hands from hers and pressed them to his lips again, looking alarmingly close to tears. "Let's just stick to what we know, yes? Stick to the facts."

Sherlock turned to face him.

"Once you've ruled out the impossible whatever remains, however improbably, must be true."

"What does that mean?" John asked quietly as Sherlock stared at his hands as they held what was undoubtedly a mug of some very cold tea.

"Huh. Look at me, I'm afraid. Afraid." He downed the leftover dregs of the cold tea in one gulp, pulling a face before all but slamming the mug down onto the table.

"Sherlock…" Demitria's tone was wary.

"I've always been able to keep myself distant. Divorce myself from feelings."  
Demi made a small, somewhat indignant noise at this. Sure, her relationship with Sherlock wasn't very…normal, but she liked to think he had feelings for her beyond the physical.

Sherlock's eyes flickered to hers – which were now pointedly not looking at him – and he raised his trembling hand.

"But, look, you see? My body's betraying me. Interesting yes? Emotions… always the fly in the ointment."  
"Yeah, all right, Spock." John cut in. Demi was silent, understandably. "Just take it easy okay? And stop rambling on about feelings as if they're something new and weird, I'm your friend, Demi's your – well I'm not quite sure whatever you two have going on – but stop pretending you're somehow beyond the need for them, for us. You're human, feeling is what people do. You've been pretty wired recently, I think all you've done is gone out there and gotten yourself a bit…worked up."

"Worked up?" Demanded Sherlock lowly, and Demi prepared herself for the oncoming storm. "Me? There's nothing wrong with me."

He massaged his temples, breathing heavily.

"Sherlock…" John began again and Sherlock straightened up suddenly, whirling to face John with fury in his eyes.

"There is NOTHING WRONG WITH ME! DO. YOU. UNDERSTAND?"

The room had gone strangely silent and Demi deliberated her course of action for a moment.

"I'll go get some more drinks…" She went to stand and Sherlock grabbed her hand.

"No! I mean…I'm fine."

He tried rationalising, in his mind that Demitria's drinking habits left much to be desired and he needed her alert for the case. In reality, he didn't know why he wanted her to stay there.

"You want me to prove it? Yes?" He demanded as she slowly sat back down, "Of course you do. If I were you I'd want me to prove it too. We're looking for a dog yes? A great big dog, excellent. That's your brilliant theory. Where shall we start?"

"Sherlock you don't have to-"

Sherlock cut her off.

"How about them?" He pointed to two people eating nearby, "The sentimental widow and her son, the unemployed fisherman? Demitria, does she have a dog?"  
Demi sighed and turned around.

"Yes but it's-"  
"A West Highland terrier called whisky, not exactly what we're looking for."  
John sighed.

"Sherlock for God's sake…"  
"And look at the jumper he's wearing, hardly worn, he's clearly uncomfortable in it. Maybe because of the material, more likely the hideous pattern-" Demi snorted, "Suggests it's a present, probably Christmas. So he wants into his mother's good books, why? Almost certainly money. He's treating her to a meal but his own portion is small. He wants to impress her but he's trying to economise on his own food."  
"Maybe he's not hungry?" Suggested John, rolling his eyes.

"No, small plate. Starter. He's practically licked it clean and she's nearly finished her pavlova. If she'd treated him he'd have had as much as he wanted. He's hungry all right but not well off, as demonstrated by the state of his cuffs and shoes." He took a breath, "'How do you know she's his mother?' Who else would give him a Christmas present like that? Well could be an aunt, Mrs Hudson did buy Demitria that appalling penguin jumper, or an older sister but mother's more likely. Now he was a fisherman, scarring on his hands, very distinctive, fish hooks. They're all quite old now, which suggests he's been unemployed for some time. Not much industry in this part of the world so he's turned to his widowed mother for help. 'Widowed?' Yes, obviously, she's got a man's wedding ring on a chain round her neck, too large to be hers so clearly her late husband's. She's well dressed but her jewellery is cheap, she could have afforded better but she's kept it, sentiment. How the dog, little hairs all over the leg from where it gets _a little bit too friendly_. But no hairs above knee, suggesting a small dog. A small West Highland terrier called whisky, 'How the hell do you know that Sherlock?' Because she was on the same train as us and I heard her calling its name, and that's not cheating, that's listening. I use my senses John, unlike some people. So you see I'm fine, in fact I've never been better so just leave me alone."

Demi let out a low whistle.

"Wow. Okay, sure, you're just fine." She muttered, earning herself a dark look from Sherlock himself. "But what do I know eh? I'm just your…friend."  
"You're not my friend." Sherlock cut across her and she froze, her face going blank.

"Right. I see. Well if you're done having your little freak out – I mean being absolutely fine, of course, I'm going to call Aunty Jean, and then I'm going to bed."

She stood, marching off and blinking to hold back the tears stinging her eyes. She'd never been sure what she and Sherlock were, but to hear him say that without question they weren't even _friends_…that hurt.

John sighed.

"I'm no relationship expert, and I'm not even sure if what you two are doing can even be accurately classified as a relationship, exactly, but I'd suggest you go and – heaven forbid – apologise to her. Now. I'm going to go get some fresh air. Good night."

He marched out of the door, deciding to go and investigate the flashing light over the Moors and avoid overhearing another of Demi and Sherlock's legendary disputes.

Part of him hoped she wouldn't throw anything at him again.

Most of him hoped she would.


	9. Chapter 9

Walking back from his, frankly disastrous, attempt at solo detective work, John sighed as his phone buzzed.

'_Henry's therapist in Cross Keys Pub – SH'_

Clearly Sherlock wasn't patching things up with Demi then.

'_How's Demi? – J'_

The response was a bit too fast to be uncaring.

'_I wouldn't know, she's locked the door. Interview the therapist? – SH'_

John sighed again. He seemed to be doing that quite often.

'_Why should I? – J'_

The next message was a picture.

"Oh, you're a bad man." Muttered John, typing his response.

'_Fine. But talk to Demi. – J'_

He was about to pocket his phone when it buzzed again.

'_I'll try – SH'_

X

Someone was knocking on her door again.

"Oh I wonder who that could be…" She muttered, putting her book down before raising her voice, "Piss off Sherlock."

There was a pause.  
"How did you know it was me?"  
"John's shorter he couldn't knock that high if he tried. Now piss off I'm trying to sleep."  
"It's half nine!"  
"I'm tired. Besides half nine is a perfectly reasonable time to sleep."  
"For Mrs Hudson maybe."

She half smiled before reminding herself that she was mad at him.

"Just go away."  
"No."  
"Fine, sleep out there on the floor, makes no difference to me." She shrugged even though he couldn't see her, picked up her book and continued reading. She'd just about begun to think he was gone when he spoke again.

"Augustus dies."

She slammed the book down.  
"God damn it Sherlock I was enjoying that book! I even went so far as to buy a brand new release so you couldn't spoil it! You do this every time!"

She almost ripped the door off of its hinges.

"Go on then! Say it! Whatever excuse John has taught you this time just say it! Or better yet honestly tell me what we are in your own words! Because I am sick and tired of being your little experimen-"

He only managed to kiss her for a moment before she slapped him. He reeled back frowning, holding his cheek.  
"What was that for?"  
"Cheating! Use your words, Sherlock."

She crossed her arms and leant back against the wall, kicking the door shut.  
"Or are you unable of saying anything remotely approaching apologetic without John's scripting?"

It was a low blow, admittedly, but if they weren't even friends…well she deserved to aim low.

"I…appreciate that in my haste to correct you I may have…chosen my words incorrectly."

If her expression was anything to go by, those weren't the right words either.

"How else could you have phrased 'You're not my friend'? It's a pretty basic sentence."  
"Well you're not! You're…you!" He argued.  
She glared at him flatly.  
"I'm…me. Right. Thank you for clearing that up. I appreciate you've had a rough night, but really Sherlock?" Her arms uncrossed and she rested her hands on her hips.

"Well what do you want me to say?!" He demanded, "Do you want me to apply some tacky label to you? 'Girlfriend' or 'lover', 'partner' or 'other half'? Whatever we are, we're not friends! You're not my friend! John is my – and we never…" He cleared his throat.

Understanding dawned on her face.

"I am your friend too, you know. They're not mutually exclusive, these tacky labels of yours. But are we?"  
"Are we what?" He scowled, clearly upset with his own inability to speak properly.

"Mutually exclusive." She repeated.

"Of course. In case it has escaped your notice, I'm not a fan of…"  
"Sharing?"  
"Precisely."

She laughed slightly.

"Well then I suppose that's enough for me. No tacky labels. Just…you and me doing whatever we do. Just so long as I'm your friend too."

He nodded slowly.

"That seems…fair."

She laughed before frowning.

"Are you okay…after the whole…forest debacle?"

He considered this for a moment.

"I'm working on it. Trying to find some logical explanation."  
"You will, eventually."

He smiled slightly.  
"Do you believe me? About the hound?"

She shrugged.  
"You've hardly ever been wrong before. I doubt you'd break that track record over a giant dog." Realising what she'd just said she spoke again, "Don't let it go to your head, of course, even you can make mistakes." Glancing around her, she frowned. "Where's John?"  
"The Cross Keys, talking to Henry's therapist. Why?"  
"His room is the one next door….do you think he'll be a while?"  
Sherlock frowned.

"I suppose so. He has to earn her trust, talk to her slowly so as not to encourage suspicion…"  
"Great." She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him into a kiss.


	10. Chapter 10

Demi woke up to an empty bed. Even as they'd grown closer, Sherlock maintained his habit of waking up at some ungodly hour of the morning while on cases and then promptly disappearing – usually to chase up an idea. She supposed him leaving her there was preferable to him dragging her out of bed with him. Used to this morning pattern, she dragged herself out of bed, attempted to make herself look presentable and left a message on his phone demanding to know exactly where he'd gone this time before stepping out of her room. And straight into John.

"Ah! Demi!"  
She smiled.  
"Morning John, how'd it go with the therapist?"

John grimaced. "That bloke from the army base blew my cover, and she left fairly quickly after that."  
"Ah. Have you seen Sherlock? He's disappeared again."  
Wisely deciding not to ask her how she knew this, John just shook his head.

"That man will be the death of me, I swear." She rolled her eyes, "Come on, let's get some food. We can go for a walk, maybe we'll find him scuttling around somewhere."

X

It was Sherlock who found them, incidentally. They were by the church when he appeared, apparently from nowhere, looking much more subdued and Sherlock-like than he had the night before.  
"Did you get anywhere with that morse code?" He asked John as Demitria tapped at the screen of her phone, probably texting Molly again. He briefly wondered what she and Molly talked about, but quickly decided it wasn't important right now.  
"No."  
"UMQRA right?"  
Demitria snickered behind a gloved hand and John glowered at her.  
"Just forget it. Dead end. Trust me."

"How about Louise Mortimer? Did you get anywhere with her?"

John scowled.  
"No."

"Oh." Sherlock frowned, "Did you get any information?"  
It took Demi a moment to realise that _Sherlock_ of all people, had just made a joke. John's eyebrows shot up.  
"Oh you're being funny now?"  
Sherlock shrugged.  
"Thought I'd break the ice."  
"Funny doesn't suit you, I'd stick to ice. Nice to see you two are getting along again, God knows you're both unbearable when you don't."  
"Hey!" Demi sounded defensive, "He's the pain in the arse, I'm delightful."  
Sherlock glared at her and cut in.  
"Listen John something happened to me last night that hasn't happened before-"

John interrupted, rolling his eyes.  
"Listen Sherlock if you're on about what happened with Demi we all know it's happened before."  
"No! No with the hound not with Demitria!"  
"Oh right yes, you were afraid."  
Sherlock rolled his eyes again.  
"Not just fear John, doubt! I felt doubt! I've always been able to trust my senses, trust the evidence of my own eyes until last night."

"You can't actually believe that you saw some kind of monster? Have you been reading Demi's Stephen King collection again?"  
"No I can't believe that. And why on earth would I read them again? I've already read them once." He paused to give John a 'you really should know this, keep up' look before continuing, "But I did see it. So the question is how? How?"

"Drugs?" Suggested Demi. "Some sort of hallucinogen?"  
Feeling distinctly left out, John puffed up slightly.  
"Right, so you two have something to go on then? Since U.M.Q.R.A was a complete failure?"  
Sherlock's eyes lit up suddenly.  
"Maybe not."

Demi snickered.  
"No Sherlock he's told me that story, it was a dead end."

"Not that code itself but…" he scribbled something in his notebook. "Look!"  
They did.  
HOUND  
"Hound, yes, what about it?" John tilted his head in thought.  
"What if it's not a word? What if it's individual letters?"  
"An acronym…you think it's an acronym?" Demi's eyes flashed with realisation.

"Absolutely no idea!" Sherlock looked far too happy about this, his smile slipping away as he looked into the doorway of the Bed and Breakfast. Demi followed his line of sight and her eyebrows shot up into her hairline.  
"Greg?!"


	11. Chapter 11

Sherlock only had about half of a second to wonder _who the hell Greg was _before Demitria was walking towards a very brown looking Lestrade.  
"What the hell are you doing here?" She grinned.  
He smiled.  
"I'm on holiday, would you believe?"  
"No, we wouldn't." Cut in Sherlock. Lestrade sighed.  
"Hello John."  
"Greg."  
"I heard you three were in the area, what are you up to? After this Hound of Hell, like on the telly?" He smirked, pocketing his sunglasses.

"We are waiting for an explanation, Inspector, why are you here?"  
"I'm on holiday!" He repeated.  
"You're brown as a nut! You're clearly just back from your holidays!"  
"You are pretty tan." Nodded Demi, "Looks good."  
Sherlock scowled and she shrugged.  
"Maybe I fancied another one!" Lestrade argued, crossing his arms over his chest.  
Sherlock sighed.  
"Oh this is Mycroft isn't it? One mention of Baskerville and he sends down my handler to spy on me, incognito. Is that why you're calling yourself Greg?!"  
There was a moment of silence.  
"Sherlock dear that's his _name_." Demi spoke slowly.  
"Is it?!" He demanded, frowning.  
"Yes." Bit out Lestrade, "If you'd ever bothered to find out. Look, I'm not your handler, if anyone is it's Demi-" She slapped his shoulder gently, "And I don't just do what your brother tells me."  
"Well you might actually be just the man we want." John smiled.  
"Why?" Asked Sherlock. Deciding not to ask exactly why he'd said _we_.  
"I've not been idle, Sherlock, nor has Demi. And we think we've found something. Look. We weren't sure if it was relevant but it's starting to look like it might be…" He took out the receipt they'd snatched from the Bed and Breakfast upon arrival. Demi smiled as she took it from him and handed it over to Lestrade.  
"That's an awful lot of meat for a vegetarian restaurant, don't you think? And now we've got a nice, scary inspector from Scotland Yard who can put in a few calls."  
"Might come in handy." Finished John.

Sherlock swelled up slightly with pride as they rang the bell for service, before the perfect method of making Mycroft uncomfortable appeared suddenly in his head.

"Oh and Lestrade, no need to book a room. We've got three and I'm sure the sleeping arrangements can be reorganised."  
Demitria rolled her eyes, he might be brilliant but sometimes he was like a small child sticking his tongue out at his brother. Luckily the conversation ended there as the owners appeared.

X

Lestrade was in interrogation mode and Sherlock was making coffee for some reason known only to him as Demi and John lurked silently by the door. As the bed and breakfast owners trembled, Sherlock appeared with a cup of coffee, all but thrusting it at John.  
"What's this?"  
"Coffee. I made coffee."  
John's eyes narrowed.  
"You never make coffee."  
Sherlock continued to hold it out, like a stubborn child, and John sighed as he took it. After a sip he pulled a face.  
"I don't take sugar-" He began before the mug was torn from his hand.  
"I do." Smiled Demi, gulping the coffee before Sherlock could take it from her.

This was not the plan.

She made a contented sound and smiled.  
"Mmm. You should make coffee more often."  
Luckily, they were all distracted by Lestrade.  
"These records go back nearly two months." He stated, flipping through the paper before him. "Was that when you had the idea? After the TV show went out?"

The weedier of the two men trembled.

"It was me, I'm sorry Gary it was all me. I couldn't resist, I had a bacon sandwich at Cal's wedding and one thing led to another…"  
"Nice try." Butted in Lestrade as Demi giggled.

"Look," Gary sighed, "We were just trying to give things a boost, you know? A great big dog run wild up on the Moor, it was heaven sent. Like having our own Loch Ness Monster."  
"Where do you keep it?"  
"There's an old mine shaft. It's not too far, he was all right there."  
"Was?" Asked Demi.  
"We couldn't control the bloody thing! It was vicious! And then, a month ago…Billy took him to the vet and-"

"It's dead?" Asked John, frowning.  
"Put down." Nodded Gary.  
"Yeah. No choice, it's over now."  
"It was just a joke, you know?"  
Lestrade nodded sarcastically.

"Oh yeah, hilarious. You've nearly driven a man out of his mind!"  
He marched out, John and Demi following.

"You know, he's actually pleased you're here. Secretly." Demi spoke, smiling crookedly up at Lestrade.

"Is he? That's nice." They left the building, "I suppose he likes having all the same faces back together. Appeals to his…his…"  
"Asperger's?" Suggested John as Sherlock followed them out, looking between the three of them with suspicion. Demi broke the silence.

"So do you believe them? About having the dog put down?"  
"No reason not to."


	12. Chapter 12

As John left the car and Demi reached for the door handle, Sherlock stopped her hand.  
"What?"  
"The hound. Don't you want to know what it looks like?"  
She nodded.  
"Might come in handy yeah."  
"It's grey, lots of scars…and very green eyes, glowing I'd say but that might just have been the light of the torch."  
She nodded.  
"Right. Grey, scars, possibly glowing eyes. Got it. Can we go? John's waiting for us."

X

Barrymore wasn't very pleased to see them again, needless to say.  
"Oh, you know I'd love to. I'd love to give you unlimited access to this place. Why not?"  
Sherlock rolled his eyes and Demi spoke.  
"It's a simple enough request, Major."  
He looked at her like she was dirt under his shoe.  
"I've never heard of anything so bizarre. And you'd be wise, Mr Holmes, to control your staff a bit more."  
Demi looked like she was going to hit him, and John grabbed her arm.

"You're to give us twenty four hours." Stated Sherlock in a tone that invited no argument, "It's what has been negotiated. And you'd be wise, Major, to treat my _staff _with a little more respect. Doubtless she could do your job better than you can."

Apparently held back by Sherlock's position as a 'superior' to him, he ground his teeth.  
"Not a second more." He ground out, "I may have to comply with this order but I don't have to like it. I don't know what the hell you expect to find here anyway."  
"Perhaps the truth?" Suggested Sherlock as he herded Demi and John into the corridor.  
"About what?" The Major turned to face them, "You're not one of the conspiracy lot are you? In search of the aliens, the death rays, the monsters…"  
Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"We've come in search of answers, Major. Not Time Lords. Good day."  
And off they went, two of them searching for very different dogs.

X

"Bloody hell it's bright in here." Demi grumbled, massaging her temples, "Where the hell is Sherlock?"  
John shrugged.  
"I thought he'd told you."  
"Nope. Just ran off then. On a top secret army base. Fan-bloody-tastic. I'm going to kill him..."

She paused as the lights dimmed."...You know, if we're not killed first by the inhabitants of the creepy labs. Come on, what's over here?"

Some sort of miniature lab-within-a-lab was lurking on the other side of the room.  
"No idea. Want to find out?"  
"We probably shouldn't."  
"We're going to anyway right?"  
She grinned at him.  
"Of course we are. Access all areas and all that jazz."  
Demi swiped the card and in they went. Aside from a rat in a cage and a pretty empty desk, there was disappointingly little in the room. Demi wandered towards the back and coughed as she found a leaky pipe.

"Eurgh, whatever that is, it tastes foul. Come on John, before we catch superflu."  
As they left, the lights seemed to flare.  
"Ah! Ow!" John cried out, Demi letting loose an impressive array of curse words as they both squinted against the blinding white.

As if it couldn't get any worse, some sort of siren went off.

"Bloody hell!" Demi covered her ears, "What the f-" She fumbled around in her pockets for the access card she'd been given and stumbled blindly towards the door, stumbling into a nearby table and tearing the side of her shirt slightly on the corner. Swiping it, she froze when she saw the screen.

ACCESS DENIED

"What? No…" she swiped it again. The same message popped up and she began to panic, swiping it again and again, "No, no, no!"

Then it stopped. The sound, the noise, everything.

"John?" She called, still holding her head. She cried out as a beam of light shone into her eyes.

"Sorry! Sorry just my torch…what's going on?"

She looked around.  
"I don't know, the door won't let us out."

"Shit."  
"Precisely."

Is was as if the room were moving around them, lights appearing and disappearing before their eyes, the noises of the lab getting louder and echoing in their ears.

"I don't feel great…" She half whimpered, leaning against John.

"Me neither." There was a metallic clanking noise at the far end of the lab, "What was that?" Without his permission, his voice had slipped into a whisper.  
"What was what?" Demi scowled. She'd heard…nothing. The empty whispering of her blood in her ears. "I'll go try the other door."

John nodded, too confused and dazed to realise she'd meant for him to follow. She swiped her card in the slot to open the next lab and – miraculously – it opened.

"John! Woah-" She stumbled as the dizziness struck again, a ringing in her ears making her feel nauseous. "John!" She shouted gratingly as the door swung shut. John didn't have a card. All she had to do was open the door again and –

ACCESS DENIED

"No, no! NO!" She'd started crying at some point, though this escaped her notice. Her head was pounding and she felt physically sick, and the ringing – oh the ringing…

There was a growling at the other end of the lab.

Demi pulled her phone from her pocket, pressing a button and illuminating the darkened room.

A blur of grey flashed between two boxes at the other end of the room and Demi threw herself under a desk, curling into a ball and shakily pressing speed dial.

"_The number you are calling is currently unavailable. Please leave a message or try again later."_

"Oh God…" Her voice was almost silent. The growling grew nearer and Demi curled up, crying silently and trying not to attract those horrifying, green eyes. "Oh God."

X

Sherlock could see the pair of them on the monitors. Suffering from two very different delusions, each of them was hiding from their own, special demon.

The coffee had been designed for John. He could withstand the stress better, Sherlock had thought, than Demi – though she was doing a wonderful job of not dying of fright.

Once they'd both taken the drugs, it became harder to control the conditions. Yes they were both looking for a dog, so they'd both see one…at least he hoped so. But these dogs were figments of their minds, they may appear at the same time but they'd not be identical. The product of two different brains, they'd behave differently, move differently, even sound different to one another – though he was trying to control most of that by playing a growling noise over the intercom to their labs. So he had to separate them. It was simple enough, really, draw one of them to another door and close it before the other could follow.

Demitria's demon had confronted her rather more quickly. She was curled up beneath a desk, hiding from an empty room. John had discovered a somewhat malformed cage and was beginning to edge towards panic as he closed himself in a more stable one and pulled the sheet over it to disguise his presence.

Both were calling Sherlock, but only one got through.

"John?" He answered, trying to sound suitably unaware.

"It's here." John hissed, "It's in here with me! Demi's next door, she's got the card I can't get through."

"Where are you?"  
"Get us out, Sherlock. You have got to get us out of this place. The lab, the big lab. The first one that we saw."  
Meanwhile, Demi was covering her mouth, cowering in a way that would suggest her hound was on the desk above her.

Sherlock pushed the button again and John made a strangled noise of panic in response to the growling.  
"John?"  
"Sherlock please."  
"I'll come and find you, keep talking."  
"No! It'll hear me!"

"Keep talking, what are you seeing?"

John edged towards the edge of the cage.

"I don't know, but I can hear it."

He played the noise again and John's breathing hitched.

"Stay calm, can you see it?" He prompted again, double checking that Demitria wasn't having a seizure.

He was sensing an awful lot of apologising in his future, and everyone knew how talented he was at that…

"I can see it!" John hissed as Sherlock pressed the button a few more times, this time into the speaker of the phone as he began to move towards John "It's here! Help me please!"

Deciding that this had gone on long enough, Sherlock turned the lights on.


	13. Chapter 13

"Are you alright?" He asked John, already walking off to release Demi from the lab next door.

"Jesus Christ it was the hound!" John's voice was slurring slightly, "It was here I swear it."  
"It's all right now, John."  
"NO IT'S NOT!" John roared back, eyes still wide with terror. "It's not okay! I saw it! I was wrong."  
Sherlock nodded.

"Well let's not jump to conclusions."  
"What?" John frowned as they entered the lab next door.

"Demitria saw it too." He stated, looking around for her, "Demitria?"

John spotted her leg.

"Oh Jesus…Demi?! Demi! Sherlock she's over here!" He ran over to where she was slumped under a nearby desk and checked her pulse. "She's unconscious. Did she hit her head?"  
Sherlock felt something akin to guilt. Demitria hadn't hit her head. She'd been alone and frightened and under the influence of what he could only state were some pretty heavy duty hallucinogens and so her body – when faced with what she had perceived as a dangerous predator – had resorted to one of the most basic survival tactics. Play dead.

She'd fainted.

"What's going on?"

And now she was waking up. She bolted upright and head butted John.

"Ow! Fuck! Where's the hound? I saw it, it was here oh my God where did it go?"

John froze.

"How could you have seen it? It was next door with me." He stated, "Massive great big thing, red eyes, _glowing _for Christ's sake…"  
Demi frowned in confusion before shaking her head.

"No…no it had green eyes. And a glowing dog? Really?"  
John nodded.

"Yes! The hound! Sherlock saw it too, tell her Sherlock!"

She looked up at him, understanding beginning to form in her eyes.

"Sherlock." She spoke calmly for someone who'd been so panicked not so long ago, "What's going on?"  
He sighed.

"You both saw what you expected to see, what I told you you'd see. For John it was glowing, for you it was grey. For him it had red eyes, for you it was green don't you see? You have been drugged, we have all been drugged. There wasn't a hound in here, Demitria, or with you John."

She looked ready to argue so he waved an arm around him.

"Can you see a hound? Or any sign of one having been here? Think! We've all seen three different dogs based purely on what we believed we would see!" He knelt next to her. "You were never in any danger."

She nodded and crawled out from beneath the desk.

"Right. So…we find the drugs, we find the cause and eliminate the problem."  
"Exactly." Nodded Sherlock, "Can you walk?"

"Of course I can walk!" She stumbled a bit but he ignored it, "Come on!"

X

Doctor Stapleton was inspecting a rabbit when they entered her lab.

"Oh hello, back again? What's on your mind this time?"

"Murder. Doctor Stapleton." Sherlock spoke calmly. Beside him, the black haired woman rolled her eyes, "Refined, cold blooded murder."

He turned the lights off and the rabbit before her started to glow. The woman spoke up again.

"Are you still on about Buttercup?"  
"Bluebell." He corrected.  
"Bluebell then, it's still a rabbit."

Dr Stapleton opened her mouth to speak but he beat her to it.

"Will you tell little Kirsty what happened to Bluebell or shall I?"

She sighed.

"Fine. What do you want?"  
"Can I borrow your microscope?"

Shortly afterwards, Sherlock was grinding something up to put on a slide, John was drinking water and still looking a little pale and Demi was musing over the case and stroking the luminescent rabbit.

"It was the GFP gene from a jellyfish, in case you're interested." Doctor Stapleton spoke, watching the dark haired woman closely, "Are you okay? You look very peaky."  
She smiled.

"I'm fine, honestly, just having a bit of a long day. If I might ask, why the glowing bunny?"  
"Why not?" she shrugged, "We don't ask why here. Just get on with it. It was a mix up, Bluebell. My daughter ended up with one of the lab specimens. So poor Bluebell had to go."  
"Your compassion is overwhelming." John noted.  
"I know, I hate myself sometimes."

"What else have you got lurking around in here?" Demi asked, inspecting the other animals around her.

"If you can imagine it, someone is probably doing it somewhere."  
"Cloning?" Suggested John.

"Yes, of course. Dolly the sheep, remember?"  
"Human cloning?"  
"Why not?"

"Bigger animals?"  
"Size isn't the problem. Not at all." She shrugged. "The only problems are ethics and the law and both can be very…flexible."  
Just then, Sherlock launched the slide he was working on across the room.

"Jesus!" Shouted John as he heard it smash.

"What is it? Sherlock?" Demi asked, looking up at him from the rabbit.

"There's nothing there! It doesn't make sense!"

"What were you expecting to find?" Stapleton inquired.

"A drug, of course, there had to be a drug there's no other explanation. There's no trace of anything in the sugar."  
"The sugar?" Asked John, frowning.

"The sugar yes, process of elimination. I saw the hound, saw it as my imagination expected me to see it, a genetically engineered monster. Henry saw it too, but not you. We've eaten and drunk exactly the same things since arriving here apart from one thing! You don't take sugar in your coffee."  
"But Demi does. If it was the sugar she'd have seen it at the Hollow…wouldn't she?"  
Demi shifted and Sherlock shook his head.

"She's dieting, taking sweeteners not sugar. I found them in her handbag."  
"You've been in my handbag?!" She demanded, crossing her arms self consciously.

"Yes. Clearly not a diet going well, you slipped up this morning, drank John's coffee."

Demi's eyes widened.

"You thought it was drugged!"  
"I took the sugar from Henry's house. But it's perfectly all right!"

"You thought it was drugged AND YOU LET ME DRINK IT?"

"Well it WASN'T." He argued.

"Well yes we know this NOW!"

He waved her off and she scowled.

"It was a drug, it had to be a drug it's the only logical explanation so how did it get into our systems? There was no drug in the sugar yet you both saw what you perceived to be the hound – each in the way I had described, different hounds, different rooms…There must be something…something…buried deep."  
He turned to the three on the other side of the room.

"Get out."

Demi rolled her eyes and muttered something along the lines of 'Here we go again'.

"What?" Demanded Stapleton.

"Get out. I need to go to my mind palace."  
"Your what?"

Demi sighed as John picked up his coat.

"Where shall I put the rabbit?"  
"That cage over there…what's going on?"  
"He's not going to be talking for a while. It's a memory technique, focusing on the storage of information. His mind palace, sort of mental map. You make up a location, deposit memories there…" John told her as they headed for the door. "Theoretically you never forget anything, just have to find your way back to it. Demi's tried it, works for her."  
Demi shrugged.

"Well mine's hardly a palace, and it's only a recent thing so I, frankly, suck at it." She closed the door behind her.

"Does he do this often?"  
"Yup." Demi nodded, recalling a particularly memorable time when he'd wanted to visit his 'palace' at about four am and had insisted she get out of bed and leave the room so he could focus.

A surprisingly short amount of time later, he yanked the door open. Demi had, of course, been leaning on it and thus he had to catch her – making his entrance a little less dramatic than he'd intended it to be.

"Did it work?" She asked, stepping out of his arms and brushing herself off. He nodded, eyes bright with excitement.

"I think so."


	14. Chapter 14

Making themselves comfortable in a room full of monitors, Sherlock looked at John.

"John…"  
"Got it." He nodded, standing in watch by the door.

"What was it? That you remembered?" Demi was still clearly a bit ruffled by the invasion of her privacy, but was far too used to such occurrences by this point for it to really have had an effect on her.

"Project H.O.U.N.D, must have read about it somewhere, stored it away. Experiment in a CIA facility in Liberty, Indiana."

They watched as Stapleton typed it into one of the machines. Shortly after there was a beeping noise and she cursed.

"Well it's there, but it's classified. I don't have access high enough."  
"Is there an override?" Suggested John.

"I imagine so, but that'll be Major Barrymore's…"  
Sherlock marched into an adjoining office.

"Password…he'd have sat here when he thought it up." He perched on the desk chair, hands on his lips. Demi leaned against the door frame.

"Describe him." She suggested.

"You've seen him." Shrugged Stapleton.

"Yes, but describe him, what he's like."

"He's a bloody martinet, a throwback. The sort they'd have sent into Suez."

Sherlock opened his eyes.

"Good, excellent. Old-fashioned. A traditionalist. Not the sort of man who'd use his children's name as a password…"  
"He loves his job?" Suggested Demi, "He's proud of it."  
"And this is work related." Nodded Sherlock, "So what's at eye level?"

He scanned the room.

"Books, Jane's defence weekly – bound copies – Hannibal…Wellington, Rommel, Churchill's history of the English speaking people's…all four volumes…"  
"Churchill himself." Demi tapped a bust of the ex PM which was sitting atop a filing cabinet, "He's fond of him."

"Copy of the Downing Street years...in fact five separate biographies of Margaret Thatcher." He squinted at a photograph, "Mid 1980s at a guess, father and son."  
"Barrymore senior?"  
"Could be. Medals: distinguished service order…"  
"That date?" Called John, "I'd say Falklands veteran."

Sherlock nodded.

"Right so Thatcher more likely than Churchill." He marched towards the computer.

"So that's the password?" Asked a somewhat stunned Doctor Stapleton.

"No, a man like Major Barrymore? Only first name terms would do."

He typed 'Margaret' into the authorisation code box, and hit enter.

It beeped again.  
"Damn it!"

Demi sidled over and nudged him aside.

"You know I'm good with passwords, let me try."

He nodded reluctantly.

"You're right, first name terms only. But would herfriends call her Margaret I wonder?" She spoke, typing a new name into the box.

'Maggie'

A new beeping this time.

OVERRIDE ACCEPTED

"Ta da!" Demi announced with a flourish.

Sherlock nodded in approval and half smiled as the information appeared on the screen and everyone in the room leaned in to read it.

"Jesus…" Muttered John.

"Those poor people." Added Demi.

"Project H.O.U.N.D." Nodded Sherlock, "New delirient drug which rendered its users extremely suggestible. They wanted to use it as an anti-personnel weapon to totally disorientate the enemy using fear and stimulus. But they shut it down and hid it away in 1986."  
"Because of what it did to the test subjects?" Asked Stapleton.

"And what they did to others. Prolonged exposure drove them insane. They were almost uncontrollably aggressive." Demi answered sadly.

"So someone's been doing it again? Carrying it on?" John asked, frowning. "Why would they?"  
"To refine it perhaps, for the last twenty years." Sherlock noted.

"Who?" Stapleton looked shocked.  
"Those names mean anything to you?"

"No, not a thing."

Sherlock sighed.

"Maybe our friend is somewhere in there, someone old enough to have been there helping in 1986." He looked at Demi, "Maybe someone who says 'cell phone' because of time spent in America."  
She nodded.

"Frankland."

"But he's a virologist!" Argued Stapleton, "This was chemical warfare."  
"Maybe that's just where he started." Sherlock shrugged. "And he's never lost the obsession that maybe that drug really could work."

"Nice of him to give us his number, in case we needed him." Demi added. "Why don't we give him a call?"

Sherlock nodded and began dialling the number as John's phone rang.

"Hello?"

After a moment he turned to them.

"It's Louise Mortimer. Louise what's wrong? What?!"

They watched John pace around.

"Where are you? Right, stay there, we'll get someone to you. Okay?"

He hung up and Sherlock spoke.

"Henry?"  
"He's attacked her. Ran off."  
"To the Hollow I imagine, only place he would go now."  
"Back to where it all started." Finished Demi.

Sherlock dialled a number on his phone.

"Lestrade get to the Hollow. Dewer's Hollow. And bring a gun."


	15. Chapter 15

They drove along in silence, leaving the car on the hillside and running into the forest after Henry, torches shining, the only light in the dark.

Demi saw him first, kneeling on the ground, his gun in his mouth.

"No! Henry no! Please!"

Henry stood, pointing the gun in the direction of her voice.

"Get back! Get away from me!" He screamed.

"Easy, Henry. Easy. Just relax." Tried John in his 'calming Doctor' voice. Henry shook his head.  
"I know what I am. I know what I tried to do!"  
Demi shook her head, stepping closer.

"Demi…" John's tone was wary.

"Henry," She spoke softly, "Just put the gun down. It's okay."  
"No! No I know what I am!"  
"I'm sure you do." She raised her hands slightly, to show she wasn't armed.

"It's all been explained to you, hasn't it?" Asked Sherlock, "Very carefully."  
"What?" Henry's arm wavered, going to lower the gun and then rising again.

"Someone needed to keep you quiet, needed to keep you as a child. To reassert the dream you both clung onto because you had started to remember. Remember now, Henry. What happened here when you were a little boy?"

Henry frowned.

"I thought…It had got my dad, the Hound…I thought….oh Jesus I DON'T KNOW ANY MORE!"  
He turned the gun on himself again and Demi stepped forwards.

"No! Henry! Henry you listen to me, it'll be okay!"  
"Remember! 'Liberty, In.' Two words! Two words a frightened little boy saw here twenty years ago!" Sherlock added, "Remember what really happened here that night. It wasn't an animal was it Henry? Not a monster at all but a man."

Henry stared into the distance, remembering, and then he looked at them.

"You couldn't cope." Demi stated softly, "You were just a child. So you rationalised it into something very different. And then you started to remember, so you had to be stopped."  
"Driven out of your mind so that nobody would believe a word you said." Finished Sherlock, as Demi gently took the gun from Henry's limp hand.

"It's okay." She smiled, one hand on his shoulder, "It's okay, we know the truth, you're not mad. And you don't have to use this."  
"Sherlock!" Called Lestrade as he ran down into the Hollow.  
"But we saw it! The Hound, last night!" Henry cried weakly.

"There was a dog, Henry, leaving footprints, scaring people…but it was an ordinary dog." She continued soothingly. You were drugged, both of you, you saw what your minds expected you to see. I saw it today, too, my own monster. But it was in my head."

Just then there was a howl, the growling of a beast as a great big dog began to prowl around them.

"No…no, no, no, no!" Henry started chanting, backing away as Demi turned around.  
"Are you seeing this?" John asked Lestrade, who nodded, silently. "He's not drugged, Sherlock so what's that?"

"It's just a dog," Demi repeated as she stood beside Henry, "You hear me? Just an ordinary dog."

She aimed the gun as a masked man appeared to their right. Sherlock marched forwards and tore their mask off.

"No…" His voice was horrified, his pupils too wide as he stared at Frankland, whose hand clamped down on his mouth and nose as soon as the mask was off, and then she understood. "It's not you!"

"It's in the fog!" She shouted as Sherlock muttered 'The fog'.

"What?" Henry asked beside her.

"The fog! The drug is in the fog!" Sherlock said, louder as Demi covered her nose, dropping her torch, gun still in her free hand. "Aerosol dispersant, that's what the records said."  
The dog stalked closer still, horrifying and very real.

"For God's sake kill it!" Shouted a frightened Frankland.

It leapt at them and then there was an ear-splitting _bang _and it fell to the ground. Demi stared at the gun in her hand like she was unsure who'd fired it.

"Look Henry." She said shakily, "Just a dog."

He stared at it, and then at Frankland. And then he launched himself off the ground.

"You BASTARD!" He roared, grabbing him and slamming him onto the ground, "Twenty years! Twenty years of my life making no sense! Why didn't you just kill me?!"  
"Because dead men get listened to, Henry!" Sherlock shouted over the struggle as Demi and John pulled Henry off of the older man, "He needed to do more than just kill you. He needed to discredit every word you'd ever said about your father. And he had the means right at his feet! A chemical minefield, pressure pads in the ground, dosing you up every time you came here. Murder weapon and scene of the crime all at once!" He laughed, "Oh this case Henry, thank you, it's been brilliant."  
Demi glared.

"Sherlock, now is not the time."

"No, it's okay." Said Henry, turning to Frankland, "This means my dad was right! He'd found something out, hadn't he? And that's why you killed him! Because he was right! And he'd found you right in the middle of an experiment!"

The dog whimpered and snarled again and the three of them with guns fired again until it was still.

Frankland made a break for it.

They ran after him through the trees, calling his name as they did. But he jumped over the barbed wire separating them from something.

"What the hell is that for?" Demi frowned, going to follow, but Sherlock grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"No!" He had just enough time to pull her to him, covering her ears, before Frankland – who had paused where he stood – turned to them, looking back, and then lifted his foot.

_BOOM!_

The sky erupted as they all stumbled back, the ground vibrating with the force of the mine blast that had destroyed Franklin. They all stared in silence for a moment, taking in what had happened.

"It's over." Muttered Henry, "It's finally over."

Demi turned to him, stepping out of Sherlock's grasp.

"Yeah." She smiled, nodding, "It is."

X

The following morning, The three of them sat outside eating breakfast and drinking some much needed coffee.

And yes, Demi had sugar. After all of that she'd decided that sugar in her coffee, a large slice of cake from the restaurant and the abandonment of a diet that Sherlock had deemed 'unnecessary' during one of his attempts to make her forgive him, were in order.

"So they didn't get it put down then? The dog?" Sherlock asked from the far end of the table – where she couldn't stab him with the fork she was using to eat her cake.

"Obviously, couldn't bring themselves to do it." John nodded.

"I see."  
"Do you?" Demi raised an eyebrow, "Really?"

"No, I don't. Sentiment?"  
She waved her fork at him in approval.

"Sentiment," She nodded, "Good boy."  
"So what happened at the lab? You know, when we were actually drugged as opposed to when you tried to drug us?" Asked John.

Sherlock went to argue but Demi cut him off with another wave of the fork.

"The pipes, those leaky ones in the lab. They were carrying the gas and we got a good few lungs full of it before we left and Sherlock decided to use us as his personal lab rats."  
"I have apologised!" Sherlock argued.  
"No you have not!"  
"I bought you cake!"  
"Not an apology. Go on, say it and maybe I'll forgive you."

He looked at her like she'd just asked him to sing an ABBA song in elvish. She smiled back innocently, eating the last of her cake.

"Go on. Say it."  
"I'm…"He grimaced and swallowed, "I apologise for attempting to drug John."  
"And?"  
He sighed.

"And I apologise for testing out my theory on you without your knowledge or consent. Am I forgiven?"  
She grinned.

"Oh no it's going to take much more than that. Including admitting you were massively wrong."  
"Wrong?!" His tone was scandalised, and he glared at John – who was watching the exchange between them and grinning.

"About the sugar, you were convinced it was in there and you were wrong."  
He looked at his watch.

"There's a train leaving in half an hour-"

"Sherlock."  
"I made a miscalculation." He admitted. "But I was right about it being a drug."

She rolled her eyes and stood.

"Good enough I suppose. One of you boys going to help me with my bags?"


End file.
